Storyteller and Artist in Life

Monthly Archives: May 2014

The Great Remember by Steve Martin and the Steep Canyan Rangers from their album “Rare Bird Alert”

Following is a letter that was never sent to my Norwegian Friend #1, featured in Twin Flame: Fact or Fiction.

March 23, 2014

I attended a Writer’s Workshop in San Francisco this weekend. One of the little five minute assignments was to write “I remember…”. Explore what comes from this two word opener for five minutes. That may mean one story or several I remembers until time is up. Several of the group shared theirs publicly. I was very touched by the format when applied to one specific person.

It came to me in the lunch break that followed to use this format to explore my recent memories of our Mentorship Meeting.

I affectionately declare that the Physics Professor Writes a Poem:

I remember typing up the email requesting your Mentorship services. I notice that I felt calm while I collected my thoughts and dreams, asking for your collaboration.

I remember my surprise that in lieu of the short coffee meetup prior to a Mentor Meeting, our plans landed on dinner and a show. I had noticed, weeks prior, a favorite local celebrity was performing “In Your Element” featuring 80’s music running for two nights only.

I remember the lift in my heart and soul when I saw you standing in the foyer of the restaurant that Saturday night: right on time to my early – only 10 minutes. I notice how you seem to run out of your jacket to come to the table to greet me…with a hug and quick fleeting kiss on the cheek. I notice that the 2+ years since our last meeting disappear instantly.

I remember you sharing your personal stories within 10 minutes of this surreal reunion. I notice how endearing it is to hear you talk of your personal history.

I remember talking comfortably with you as if we were longstanding friends. I notice what a lovely picture we paint for all the other restaurant patrons.

I remember our mutual enjoyment of the Malbec wine. The large and shapely glassware does not go unnoticed by either of us.

I remember wanting to skip down the street to the theatre to see the show. Buoyed up with a thimble of wine, I could not hold back a few skipping steps. I wonder if you notice.

I remember soaking in your presence. I notice the enjoyable interactions with the theatre staff in trying to seat us in our ticketed seats – hidden way up in the balcony.

I remember you missing a step and spilling red wine on your crisp white shirt as we continued the wild goose chase for our seats. I notice that you handle the mishap with style and grace. The shirt was destined to be processed the next day by Edmonton’s World Class Waste Management Program. It is probably biofuel by now…

I remember you noticing the last song I listened to on my playlist in the blackened theatre during the show, Fields of Gold by Eva Cassidy – you also have that very song. I notice the title to the song my son has been regularly serenading me with is Rock You Like a Hurricane by the Scorpions.

I remember walking past the Citadel Atrium. I notice the workbench in the shadows of the majestic Norfolk Pines. I resist the urge to show you.

I remember seeing you in the passenger seat of my red, debadged SUV. I almost can not look as it would seem an impossible reality not weeks before. I just feel it.

I remember you guiding me out of the traffic jam on Jasper Avenue. I enjoy the subconscious delay tactic. I notice you are not quick to bring me back in line.

I remember dropping you to the downtown hotel close to 11pm, anticipating the unknown day ahead which would start with me picking you up at 10am the next morning. I delight in the fact that this was the night of daylight savings time change. We spring forward so one less hour to wait.

I remember picking you up the next morning. The thrill of seeing your surprise approach to my truck from outside as I wait in the front lobby. You meet me at the hotel front step with a kiss for each cheek as is the custom of my ancestors. I wonder, did you do some homework last night? Nice touch…

I remember my enthusiasm spilling over while driving towards Edmonton’s Telus Baseball Field. I share the rumor that the book Shoeless Joe by WP Kinsella was inspired by this very field andinspired the movie “Field of Dreams”. You reach out your hand to calm & steady me – my hand absentmindedly holding the steering wheel that controls your safety. The gentle reminder feels like a gesture performed a thousand times. I notice how patient you are with me – as if you know me well.

I finish my writing into my phone at the San Francisco Restaurant over lunch. I am now on a break in the playground across from the Hilton Financial District Hotel. I open my phone. It is 3:33pm. Catch my breath…

I remember walking into the lineup at Cora’s for breakfast – a place I have attended with each and every friend dear to me. I notice the logo on your grey winter jacket: Arcteryx, Canadian company. I am wearing the Norwegian brand Helly Hansen in Indigo. I notice your flexibility as you ordered coffee, not yet realizing other options were available. Glad you ended up with double Espresso.

I remember you asking me what is the difference between enlightenment and ascension. I notice there are no words available to answer.

I remember parking in my VIP parking spot at my friend’s house down by the River. I notice the 200 stairs in the distance as we crossed the first footbridge of many that day.

I remember the warm sun with the best of the season temperature nearing 10 degrees Celsius – a 30 degree improvement from the prior week. I notice how therapeutic it feels as the winter season takes its last breath.

I remember walking past a sign that warns the path is not passable. I notice our passage easily defies the validity of the warning.

I remember your playful way of slip-sliding down the trails with your beautiful, blue, latest technology, Nike running shoes. I enjoyed a sure-footed walk clad in my 20 year old beige K-Swiss hiking boots.

I remember you asking for my thoughts on Christmas Traditions. I notice that I do not tell you I wrote a story about that.

I remember you asking which house I prefer of the two within view on the opposite bank by the mighty North Saskatchewan River. I notice myself not really having a preference.

I remember playing the spoons, each our own set, at a public performance by a French Canadian Folk Group conveniently located near the walking path.

I remember walking along the trail and you modeling how to find a way to make a circular route rather than doubling back the way we came. I notice how you make warm connections with people as you ask for directions.

I remember walking up an extremely steep, snowy hill. I kick toeholds into the crusty 6 inches of snow that I thought might come in handy for you. I do not look back to see if you used them or not. I notice you made it up somehow without incident.

I remember talking about tattoos: if we would have one what would it be? I notice we both have thought about this before. I notice that I forget to mention the dragonfly as a symbol I consider appropriate. I adore this discussion. I wonder if you notice that?

It is now the next day after my Monday morning “Rush” to Yoga… Home sweet home in Edmonton.

I remember the topic of relationships coming up. I notice we both share cursory details that illustrate our challenges in this area.

I remember you order a green juice and I, a smoothie at Booster Juice in my local strip mall.

I remember you performing the first moves of Tai Chi outside the Booster Juice as you wait for your second customized green juice to be made. I am a captive audience in the driver’s seat of my SUV. I notice the twinkle in your eye.

I remember backing into the garage of my home…with you in the passenger seat. I notice how naturally it sits with me.

I remember having tea together, each enjoying a space on my beautiful, green sofa. I notice how you prepare the lighting using the two floor lamps in the room prior to my entry. I notice how comfortable I feel as I put my feet up on the wartorn coffee table.

I rememberwalking my dogs with you. We ran into an acquaintance from the neighborhood. I notice that I did not think to introduce you to her. Forgot all of my manners.

I remember phoning ahead to ensure an available table at a funky new gastrobar called “The Glass Monkey”. I notice how plain the restaurant looks in its strip mall location as we drive up.

I remember the fun of ordering and eating together at our last supper. I notice that you declare you enjoy the view … of me, not at all worried about missing out the view of the televised saltwater fishtank that I am enjoying. I notice that I do not share with you how happy I am with my view … of you.

I remember you reminding me that it takes two to Tango in answer to my question “ have you ever tangoed in Buenos Aires?”, even the waiter chimes in his agreement with this statement as he happens to be at the table in the next breath. I notice that my heart flutters in response.

I remember that you asked if I had been to both Thailand and Buenos Aires separately over the course of our meeting. After my negative reply, I notice that you state, “you would love it there”. I agree with you. I notice that I leave those remarks hang.

I remember being treated to your 80’s playlist. I notice that the songs are short snippets, not the whole thing. I notice it is fun to experience so many songs in an efficient timeframe.

I remember looking at the clock on the dash of my vehicle. I notice that the carriage is soon to turn into a pumpkin, yet again.

I remember you saying just before you exit the vehicle this night, “I will see you again”. I notice myself doubting “did I actually hear that?”

I remember getting out of the vehicle so that I could ‘hug you properly’. I notice you do not give the extra long style that you gave me the first and last time we met 2 years ago.

MOST of all, I remember feeling the deepest, surest peace within my entire being as I was driving down the hill out of downtown Edmonton that night. I take notice…

May 11, 2014

P.S. – I never sent this email/poem. Strong intuitive message was “He is not ready to receive this now”. Sharing this is humbling but authentic for me.

I loved the experience as it goes to show the value of not making assumptions, not taking things personally, desiring/creating an experience and most of all not knowing. I have not a clue. I look back to our original meeting: I fell in love with his Soul. Logic and the mind keep us busy wondering what is going on. Makes little logical sense to me. I love that he knows me in a more realistic light than before. I enjoyed our shared time. I must again respect his choice in how he wants to interact with me.

I add one last verse:

I remember you heard one of my favorite songs playing from my iphone Playlist over the Harmon Kardon in my kitchen -my amp from the big system was awaiting replacement. I notice the song seems to impact you more than any other you have heard from my list.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. What stories are you carrying inside you that are yearning to be freed onto the page? What stories are you carrying inside that, once freed onto the page, will also free you? Whatever they are, write one of them. Now.” Maya Angelou: The Call to Write.

I am not in the regular habit of going back down memory lane…except to write these stories, ha ha. My inspiration to capture stories from my life was far from welcomed when it first appeared over two years ago. Over time, the inspiration could not be denied. I learned that resistance was futile. On one hand, words seem so meaningless. Live for now. What good comes of looking back? On the other hand, I enjoy capturing my stories in the quirky way that I do. Inspiration just hits, usually triggered by something – could be a song, a movie, a book, a conversation. Anything. I really do not take them too seriously. They are just stories. I have come to strongly believe that being a storyteller is a very valuable profession. One that I feel well suited for. I am not overly concerned with accuracy. I just let them flow. I always learn something about myself, my past self that is. I embrace the idea that in each moment I am reborn. So I really do not feel defined by my past actions and choices. Nothing to be ashamed of. I Let Go of the belief system I once held that past actions define you: peaceful, free state of being. In this moment, I have complete and total freedom to make my right now choice. I am in harmony. I do not have to conceptualize old choices. If they do not resonate in this moment, absolutely fine. This moment is my greatest teacher. How I feel now is my most useful tool to gauge this moment.

Recently, I found myself in conversation with a friend who was in the early stages of separating from her long-term marriage. Been there. Done that. Like attracts like. My Wedding Day Story came out. Wow, it had been a long while since I have thought about that one. It is a story about honesty…and deception. I am honest to a fault. Life seems always a paradox. Love that!

Graduated from Medical School in 1990, fully licensed 1992. Lived the life, working full-time as a Doctor. I dated my Med School Sweetheart. One of the largest motivations for me to get married, if I am honest with myself, was number one to have a family – in wedlock was my belief system. The number two reason was so that I would not have to be worried getting caught staying overnight at my boyfriend’s house, another belief system. At that time, I cared about the opinions of certain people. Parents? Neighbors? That feeling was getting old as we had been dating for six years prior to marriage. I guess that was a wee signal about a lack of enthusiasm if I had been a little more observant. Med School was a bit distracting…and overwhelming at times. We actually did break up about a year before we got married as I saw the writing on the wall. If he was unsure about marriage after five years of dating, then he was just unsure. I grieved the loss of our partnership but was prepared to get over it and start looking anew. I even had another strapping medical trainee in mind. That man also became a surgeon, orthopedic – a little more ‘hands on’, so I guess I had a thing for surgeons. I run into him from time to time and it is always a pleasure. Once I was in the company of a friend when I ran into Mr. Orthopedics and she sensed some energy in the air, for sure. I can be such a flirt. It amazes me that I was a faithful wife and girlfriend over 22 years in partnership with my buddy. Wonder how authentic that really was? Somehow, two weeks after breaking up, my buddy and I were reunited. This was a great relief to our friends as they just could not see us apart. We were best friends through dating and early marriage. An intuitive cousin of mine, Neurological ICU Miracle noted in the story “Your Song”, had shared her observation that she did not see us as lovers somehow. Hmmmmm…. I was not at all offended. It was a bold statement. Love those! I could understand why she would say that. Made me a little uncomfortable. Truth has a way of doing that, doesn’t it?

Contributing to our brief breakup was my purchase of a small home. I had been renting an apartment on my own for one year. I was sort of waiting around for a marriage proposal. I learned that I do not like living alone and needed to change my residential status. I took on a room-mate after purchasing the house. I got along famously with her, ended up as one of the bridesmaids. She was a family friend growing up on the same street. The four parents were shocked that it worked out as well as it did. They saw us both as too hotheaded to get along. Ha ha. Within one month of my home purchase, my boyfriend also bought a home. Bigger, better, in a nicer neighborhood. That started the gossip flowing. Strange circumstances indeed. I now realize that I have been fiercely independent for a very long time. Owning a home on my own, with a bank mortgage, felt like an achievement. It was a great lesson in debt. I took on a 10 year mortgage and felt its weight on my personal freedom. I recall sitting there with my first Medical earnings rolling in. Paid off the student loan in two months. Felt absolutely awesome! Worked my butt off in those two months. Never worked harder in my life before or since. Tee hee. The next tens of thousands accumulated and I seriously asked myself, “house or stereo”? The housing market was very affordable in Edmonton so I chose house. One of those choicepoint moments. I can only laugh.

All in all, I was more interested in the marriage than the wedding. I felt the experience of planning a wedding was a bit of a gong show. I prefer to evaluate any and all customs to determine if they suit me. Well this was not going to work with the collective people involved. At that time, one thing we were in agreement on was to be married in a church. Fiancé and his family had recently gone through catechism in the Catholic Church. They were each formally baptized and received First Communion. I have always enjoyed Spirituality so decided to join a catechism class of my own – an enjoyable experience. The priest shared a lot. He was very open-minded. It was much more than just the Catholic dogma. We explored all faiths: a theology course. Within the church there are many Beautiful Souls. I was impressed at how many were not connected to the dogma but wanted to share community within the Catholic Church. Slowly over time my favorites found their way out of the Church – many forced out but some voluntarily left. Politics are ugly no matter where you find them. It did not take too long before I declared myself an ex-Catholic.

The Priest, Father Dick, who presided in my fiancé ‘s neighborhood -the good one, remember?- was inspiring. It was his cowboy boots that peeked out from the bottom of the robes that fateful day September 1994. I and many others noticed – tickled. He was known to drive a Harley motorbike also. Fun Fact: he ended up leaving the Priesthood years later to get married himself. Go Dick!! One man’s scandal is another man’s celebration. A cause for celebration in my world! So happy for that inspiring man.

Back to my wedding:

Crossing threshold

Nothing confused me more at the time than me breaking down into tears the instant I crossed the threshold of the Chapel, captured in the photo by my dear Aunt. I continued to weep through the entire ceremony.

During ceremony

It was not like I was moved in a happy way. I felt overwhelmed. I did not want to look too closely at it. Was I sad? Not sure. When it came time for the vows, I barely got out any words. When I was asked to repeat till death do you part, I just could not say that. Father Dick paused. Repeated the vow several times. Giving me multiple chances to join back in. ….Then cut his losses and carried on without those words ever being repeated.

As I look back now, I am dumbfounded. My higher Self seemed to know that it was not going to be forever. I am nothing if not honest. I was reminded each time I saw another wedding ceremony about my own not seeming to match the typical sentiments.

As I see it today, I was destined to have my three kids, and the experience of marriage. The kids have been my best teachers. Their young energy helped me to break free from the collective consciousness – also some of my family’s belief systems.

Lambada!!

My buddy was a Soulmate but was never designed to be forever. He was and is a good man. He sure knows how to dance. It was those Michael Jackson hips that started this whole affair back in 1988. The Med Show Dance. Med Show is a racy affair where Med students let off a

Cheongsam glory…loved that dress!

little steam while we entertained an audience with crude skits and songs. In the days before You Tube. One’s career could end with some of that footage. A highlight of the wedding reception was doing the lambada in my custom made cheongsam – thank you Chinese mom! Proud to say I still fit that dress. Just sayin’. I was showing more leg than is proper back in China, I was told by a Chinese friend later. My cheongsam was all Hollywood, not China so much. Dancing the lambada in it appeared slightly scandalous to my mother she later shared. Our best man had passed a hat around to collect money to entice us to do the forbidden dance. He had traveled with us to Mexico so knew we would be up for it. We were. Close friends hinted that I was sexier than was proper for a bride. Sexy is as sexy does, I always say.

Soulmates come in all shapes and sizes

I had wanted to understand my emotional reaction in the Chapel better. I asked my bridesmaids what they thought of it? One replied, “You are a tough nut. Tough nuts are tender on the inside.” I found that such an unsatisfactory answer.

I was told that many people were so moved witnessing my ongoing crying. Many said it was a beautiful wedding. The comments struck me as very sincere.

My decision to raise my kids in a two household family and not remain married to their dad, was not celebrated by…anyone. Except me. I forced the transition on everyone in my family. Not long after separation, they were asking would it be Ok to include my former husband in family gatherings? I initially answered, No. Let us wait until he has engaged in the process of separation etc. I did not want mixed signals being sent. Well that day did come. It was a beautiful thing to see he and my mom reunited. My imagination was creating a movie scene. A large green field scattered with colorful wildflowers. My mom and buddy each in an opposite corner of the field. They would stretch their arms open and in slow motion run towards each other. When they met, an authentic embrace would follow: turning in a slow circle as the embrace continued. It was Beautiful. I felt like crying at the mixed emotions it brought up for me. They share mindset and enjoy each other’s company and conversation. They had accepted each other as family. I felt a wee bit bad for keeping them apart in the way that I did. They had visited a couple of times on their own. It was this day that I came up with the idea that I had married my mom. The energetic signature was so familiar to me. I had been entrained. It was nobody’s fault. My biggest challenge in life to date is to just be myself. I am very intuitive and knew that to be myself would challenge those closest to me. I would say that is midlife crisis defined. When someone breaks out of some societal or family mold and steps into who they truly are. History has shown that society can be pretty cruel to those transforming. Judgments have been thrown around freely. We could choose to celebrate this monumental achievement. Connecting with your true Self is the greatest possible triumph. Big theory is that this is what Mental Illness is. An individual whose natural state is a mismatch to the collective consciousness. Perhaps we all go through it as we open up to our true selves. Not for the fainthearted. It takes time to tease away the energetic ties to allow your true self freedom to emerge. “Ties That Bind” story coming soon. Also we must Let Go of belief systems that do not resonate with our natural state.

Seeing that my former husband fit into my family more than I did was not really painful by this point. It just made sense. It is the way it is. It is nothing personal. I am who I am. They are who they are. Live and let live.

When you become a lover of what is, the war is over. Byron Katie

It was interesting to just look at this situation for what it was. I can only be myself. I know that now. Being anything other was not a comfortable way to live. I gave it a shockingly valiant effort. Wow! WTF. The Beautiful Truth of it all is that the only thing holding back my being accepted was me not accepting myself. It was for love of family and friends. I knew the real me would likely not be celebrated. I am OK with that now. Do I really have any other choice? I allow it to be more their problem than mine. So simple. Yet so difficult for me. I chose to allow that. I figured it out…eventually.

I have been known to defy signs before…

Shocking conversation spring 2014 with my buddy, as I often refer to my former husband: he expressed that Divorce was a bad disease. I really thought after three years and a girlfriend, he would have less resentment. I told him that I did not judge it. Authenticity rules. And repeated the Byron Katie quote above. It did not go over all that well. But I was very peaceful with it. I accepted his viewpoint. At the same time was so very comfortable with my own. Live and let live. What better gift do we give our children than to model this for them. I had been selling him on the Divorce thing from the get go. He had never really wanted to buy it. I felt it was for the wrong reasons. More about connection to collective consciousness than the desire to share love with me. A common fear with divorce and separation is “what about the children”? Yes, what about them?

A favorite teacher Matt Kahn summarizes a common relationship theme:

We are going to lie, disappoint and have Anniversaries until we die. How romantic…

Is this what we want to model to our kids? Not me.

This small interaction may sound so simple but it was evidence to me that I stand firm in myself now. I am changed. It is good. I have come a long way! I am no longer affected by conflicting opinions in those around me -as I oh, so used to be. I take it as a good sign…for me.

My Birthday is October 1. A favorite way to honor the big day is to plan a trip. Two years ago, it was Vancouver Island. For this year, I wondered where I might go and landed on Norway. I cannot count the times I was questioned, “Why Norway?” I never had an easy answer at the ready. I especially found it hard to answer while I was on the trip. Curiosity within myself built up and I felt I wanted to answer this question. The short answer is that I intuitively felt drawn to see Norway. There was an impulse to see it for a variety of reasons over the recent years and why not now? Maybe the question also could be “Why not Norway?”

OK, now there is also a long answer. Hang on, I will “share my crazy” with you.

Birthday Dinner

I am an out of the closet fan of children’s entertainment. I have my favorites and one of them is “Kim Possible”. I loved the TV show when Elise and Jacques were young. Somehow, Jean-Luc has rarely seen the show. There was also a movie called, “A Stitch In Time”. This is one of those movies that I enjoy each time I watch it. Well one of the main characters, Ron Stoppable, gets banished to Norway. I always wondered why the writers picked Norway…and they were pretty unkind to the country in their portrayal. Sensed a little Norwegian grudge within one of the writers…I could be wrong. I felt defensive for Norway after seeing that movie. The villain subversively arranges for Ron’s mom to be transferred to Norway to keep Ron away from spoiling the evil plot…and it worked… for a while.

At 1:15 you can see the scene where Ron’s parents inform him they are moving…to Norway. So funny…
“This will alter the course of life as we know it!” Ron declares to Kim when sharing the news. Kim states, “Ron, I couldn’t save the world without you”. And the way the movie plays out…they were right. Love this movie!
I even bought the Soundtrack. So over a decade ago, the curiosity about Norway began.

Then two years ago, I was extremely inspired by a gentleman of Norwegian persuasion. OK, maybe it was just an old fashioned crush. I happened to find myself partnered with him at a conference. I was blown away and wanted to know more. After having dinner together, I was solidly interested. I wrote about it in the story “Twin Flame: Fact or Fiction??” I have been unsuccessful at being 100% convinced that we will not see each other again. I consciously did not feel this trip was related to my interest in my first Norwegian friend. In the end, I could not help but inform him that I had booked the trip. He was so kind as to recommend a nice route to see Norway. I took that route…of course. And he found himself in Asia for the duration of the time I was there. There was nothing to indicate that we would have seen each other had it been otherwise.

Another large factor in my Norwegian curiosity comes from my therapist. She was raised in Switzerland and worked for a couple of years in Norway. Following my sharing the above experiences with her, she informed me the people of Norway are the most psychic she had ever connected to. She has worked and traveled the world so this struck me. She recounted that the people were very attached to telepathic communication. Oooooh, more psychic, hey? What is that about? She had also noticed that culturally they appear to have a belief system that going deep is a sought after experience. This kind of thing piques my curiosity.

May 2013, I received a Facebook friend request from a stranger from Norway. This was not the first time to receive a random friend request. My routine has always been to wonder how a person came to be aware of me. Nothing clear arose at first but over time I note that a Norwegian woman who chose to follow me on Facebook shared one of my posts one fine day. This woman was Norwegian

Oslo Architecture

friend #2’s Facebook friend. He looked to be in his 20’s. Turned out the picture was out of date. He was in his 30’s. As I have nearly always done, I accepted the friend. I was just a wee bit more interested because he was from Norway. What can I learn here? It did not take long to see that I responded to his Facebook posts more than most other of my Facebook friends. He shared interest in metaphysical/spiritual topics. I liked his taste in music. He invited me to other Facebook pages he authored. Short version of the story is we became friends. Facebook chats occurred regularly. We found ourselves sharing more personally than I do with many friends. He entered into the close friend circle…and I have never met him face to face. I always had said about Norwegian friend #1, “I could never have fallen for him had I not met him personally.” OK, now I have to eat those words. This new close friend took on a romantic flavor. I wrote about it in the story “Never Say Never”, will be published when inspiration strikes. There was a short time where we were both excited about meeting up somewhere in the world. Well authenticity rules. He started connecting with a local woman. I truly appreciated his honesty. The friendship needed to transform. A bird in hand is worth two in the bush. Isn’t that what they say? As much as I was a little disappointed, I could not deny what was true. Had I met someone local, I certainly would have explored it. Not really sure what hope our international connection had in the long run anyway. But here I was. So few men catching my eye and 2 out of 3 come from one specific country…far, far away. When I decided to visit, I had no expectations from my new friend…but I let him know I was coming. He reflexly responded that we should meetup. OK. My thinking was that if in the off chance his new romance found itself on the rocks during my visit, that could prove interesting. With my 3 year dry spell since my separation, this was the closest I had come to connecting with someone. As strange as it seemed, and unlikely, connecting with this friend did push my timeline to now for the visit Norway urge that had returned again and again.

See, I am not the only one! I feel that I have a gift for recognizing truth. Through various ways, I detected something about Norway that needed to be experienced. It was an amazing synchronicity that my friend posted this link when he did. I had just hung up the phone with my Norwegian friend #3 who lives in Calgary. We met at the end of October in Sedona, Arizona – shortly following my trip to Norway. We hit it off and vowed to stay in touch. We had just talked for nearly an hour on the phone. She was thinking of me and wanted

Vinternatt i fjellene

to send me the link to the Huffington post article which she had read the day prior. We had planned to do the Birkebeiner: history is from (…wait for it…Norway) together this year here in Edmonton! Doing some version of the Berkebeiner has been on my Bucket List for years. My brother’s annual tradition had inspired me. This could be the year, weather permitting. It seems even more authentic doing it alongside an authentic Norwegian couple…

Weather did not permit. The Norwegian couple and I did not do the ski. It was very cold, minus 20 something. My brother, and many other avid skiiers, defied mother nature and went ahead with the slightly shorter version: 48 km instead of 55km. Only in Edmonton. Me bro is pretty macho. I am in awe. Even the Norwegians thought it was too cold. Pretty funny.

I had long anticipated meeting what I had been calling my favorite teacher, Panache Desai, in a full day workshop early November, 2013. Well I laughed when seated beside me was a sexy, Norwegian man, friend #3’s husband. Maybe I had even wished for that. What are the chances, really? I took it as a fun synchronicity. The three of us had dinner together later that night. I fessed up with my Norway fetish. So she thought of me right away upon seeing the article. I accept and embrace that….I have a thing for Norway.

Immediately following the trip, my biggest answer to Why Norway and why now? Was to experience the energy of Molde. I have nicknamed Molde the Machu Picchu of Norway. I visited Machu Picchu June 2013 so I would know. Ha ha. Molde is a beautiful site with 222 mountain peaks fully surrounding the town on the shores of the Fjord – a long narrow arm of the sea bordered by cliffs.

On the Road to Molde, Norway

The energy was sublime… I thoroughly enjoyed a short

hike one of the days wearing my newly acquired Helly Hanson Indigo winter coat. I saw so many people in Oslo wearing the brightly colored sporty jackets produced by the Norwegian company. I just had to have one. I rarely shop when traveling unless it is super convenient – like I trip over a vendor or something. I knew it was meant to be when the first thing I spotted out of my hotel room window in Oslo was a Helly Hanson store across the street. Fate had spoken… So funny that within one week of returning home, I see what looks on the outside to be the very same style of winter coat selling at Superstore for $60 Canadian. Well that is a huge differential to the price I paid. Off the top of my head, I do not even recall how much. I filed it into the a lot file. Why pay less, when you can pay more? This is a running joke between my parenting partner and I – both during and after our marriage. I call myself a pampered pooch. Not that I love to pay more, but I am not overly upset when it works out that way. I love a good sale as much as the next person. I will not go too far out of my way. It is how I roll…

Have to add April 2014: I drove down to Calgary for some face time with Norwegian friend #3 last month. We talked nearly non-stop for 11 hours! Not too many people in this world I can do that with. One of the little pearls of this visit was the line “Victory of Peace”. That is truly the best summary of my visit to Norway. I spent 12 days by myself. I treasured my own company more than I ever had before. I had the intention of connecting with people but it just did not happen…and I did not push it. Adored driving my manual transmission Volvo V40 rental car on the mountain roads. Exhilarating! I obtain a lot of peace behind the steering wheel of a car, that is for sure. One form of meditation.

Kim Possible (I am still a huge fan!) put Norway on the map for me way back.

In my Medical Training, I was sent for two months to train with some small town Family Doctors. You did not necessarily get to choose the town but I lucked out and got Westlock, less than an hour north of Edmonton. I was given an apartment to stay in but running back into the city was easy if a reason came up. The best of both worlds. The Docs there were a really nice bunch. They took their task of training a Family Doctor very seriously. A unique experience setup by the Docs to round out the Medical Education was to ride-a-long with a police officer for a shift. You will be glad to know that it was a female officer. Whew! A mindful decision I imagine. Would have been tough if they matched me up with a handsome devil in uniform. Haha. Funny as we were getting to know each other, the topic of my own criminal record came up. Her face dropped. If I had a record, I was not supposed to be allowed to participate in the Ride-a-long program. Whoops! I am honest to a fault, I always say. The police in town just assumed that if I was training to be a Doctor, I would not have a record. If I was anyone else, they would have done a background check on me. It never occurred that I should be ashamed of my wicked past.

Back in Junior High, I toyed with shoplifting and was found guilty of fraud.Fraud sounds so serious compared to shoplifting but I guess being found guilty of switching pricetags is not quite so impressive sounding. At the time, I felt it was better than shoplifting straight on. I just offered myself a sale price on a pair of sunglasses. Yes, I see now that the logic is not very sturdy. I am a fully reformed fraud offender. Since then, I am much more likely to give a generous tip… Not that I did not also shoplift straight on. I just did not get caught at that. I would hate to add up how much stuff I took without paying over a several weeks period. Grade 9, should have known better. When my friend and I were charged, we both had a lot of stolen goods in our possession. We were thankful not to feel the full heat of our crimes.

The worst thing about that little fraud incident is it happened on my Dad’s Birthday. My mom was a law student so pretty embarrassing for her. I felt like such a schmuck…and I was. My own shame was my punishment. I was so blessed to feel how much my parents loved me.They could see how hard on myself I was about it that they did not punish me further. They understood me. They allowed for my mistake. They continued to trust me. They supported me. My partner in crime continued on with the lifestyle. I entered Grade 10 without my best buddy. I turned my back on my criminal ways right then and there. I chose not to continue the friendship. Within a month I found a Soulmate friend in Grade 10 Physics class. We saw each other from across the room. It was fate… She was by my side from then on, through University and onwards to Medical School.

Ironic how things went down in the Courtroom. My friend entered before me. Her case was completed. My case was heard next in line. I entered the courtroom and I guess there was a smirk on my face. Well did I get an earful. The judge did not like me. Not one little bit. He went on and on about how he would like to throw the book at me, yadda yadda yadda. He specifically said that he would hand down the same punishment as my friend received despite his desire to give me something harsher. Nice sentiment. I was found guilty of fraud. Penalty: admonishment. That is the word he used. I was fascinated by this extra long word. What did it mean? I asked my mom on the way home. It means a good talking to. Don’t do it again. Dictionary.com defines it as to reprove or scold, especially in a mild and good-willed manner. My mom was sticking up for me even then. She said that I tend to smirk when I am nervous. The judge interpreted that I did not take the proceedings seriously.She went on to reassure me that the judge just wants to scare the shit out of me so that I will not return. Most teenagers in front of him, he will see again. He is trying to do me a favor. Gotta love my mom.

When I was getting into so much trouble at school in Grade 8, she was so bold as to say that if I was a boy, there would be no problem. But since I am a girl, the same behavior was not tolerated. Interesting… Kind of went along with the fact that I was sent frequently to see the Vice Principal for misbehavior of various sorts. He would just shoot the breeze with me and ask me to try to stay out of trouble. He was an Angèle supporter. I always seemed to have lots of those. My Grade 8 teacher thought I was a psychopath. One teacher’s psychopath is another teacher’s talkative and disruptive. I was tested and found to be “gifted”. Ha ha. It meant very little but it got that teacher off my case. Rebel without a cause.

Getting back to my ride-a-long. It was actually pretty boring. The officer loved looking for dark tinted windows. I guess she needs to find something to do to justify her job. Many warnings and tickets for dark windows were handed out that night. Rural Alberta is known for a high percentage of pickup trucks on the road. If they want to tint their windows, it ends up being the driver’s windows. The law allowed for only the most minimal tint. Was the town safer as a result? Your guess is as good as mine. We spent some time on the highway with the radar. The biggest surprise to me was that nobody talked back to the police officer. I have heard it said that French people are passionate. Well in my family, I had witnessed many a traffic ticket handed down. It generally was responded to with passion. It was always accompanied by backtalk – big or small. I discussed this with the police officer. She felt that talking back was quite rare. Really?? I was educated. It felt weird to discover my upbringing was not typical in this regard. I just assumed everybody talked back since my family did. We actually enjoyed the retelling of some of those incidents over dinner. A good laugh.

I was reminded of the prior ticket I had received. It was actually following an Ambulance ride-a-long. No boredom there. Lots of action. Fun fact from that ride was that the Firemen arrived first on the scene to most calls for an ambulance. There were more of them so almost always arrived first. It was an amazing experience. I was with them from 10pm to 6am. I was driving home, a little tired by then. Motivated to get into bed. A major intersection near the Ambulance Main Station was 107 Avenue and 109 Street. I was traveling west on 107. I am reminded when I see the sign that I am not allowed to turn left onto 109 Street. Instant thought: it is late. It does no harm. There is only one car on the road right now way in the distance. I can see the headlights blazing. I turn. Home sweet home, here I come. Well those headlights belonged to a police car. Sirens immediately turn on. Really? Well that officer found one passionate girl once he pulled me over. I was having no difficulty expressing myself. I questioned him, “Surely, you have more important work to do right now than pulling me over. There is nobody on the road. Turning at this time of night is not a big deal.” I may have even said that if I were him, I would use my own judgment to determine that this is not a risk to anyone. Of course, I know they are often looking to see who is on the road in the wee hours. Have I been drinking? Or worse? Possibly if I had not been such a hothead, I may not have received a ticket. I have gotten off many tickets since I stopped backtalking. They are just doing their jobs, right? I can be taught. I am a slow learner sometimes.

Indignance prompted me to obtain legal counsel...aka talk to my mom. Ha ha. She always supported me. Even this time she came up with a possible avenue in my case. I wanted to fight the ticket. She said that the sign is clear that left turns are not allowed. It is not one of those where the left turns prohibited only during certain hours. She thought a very weak possibility that she had seen work once was for me to request that the officer be able to pick me out in the courtroom. I forget the exact details but my mom would represent me (pretty funny)

and I would sit in the courtroom and see if he could pick me out. Often just by showing up, you at least get a reduction in your fine. Ooooo. The big day came. I am likely the only one in Traffic Court with a Lawyer in tow. As I entered I looked around me. My hopes shriveled as I saw that I was the only one in my age range. Oh oh. Funnier still was when the officer was informed of the jist of the case. His eyes got wide and he came right up to me and said, “There she is. I will never forget those eyes.” He went on to explain that my performance that night was pretty memorable. He likely would have picked me out in a restaurant. I was never sure if he meant he thought I was hot or a hothead. Maybe both.

Over the years, I have even gone to court just for the fun of it. The days before reality television. Always an education. And to see my mom in action. She is and was so cool.

All in all: a pretty short rap sheet…

Started May 21, 2014

P.S. – Had a drink with three other ladies last night. It was fun to share our rap sheet stories. Therapeutic value for crimes big and small. Secrets are bad for your health.

Skeletons in the closet of all varieties need to see the light of day. You don’t need to share with everyone but you should find an appropriate person. Don’t wait for your deathbed. I met a Beautiful Spirit yesterday who has spent decades in elder and palliative care. I was shocked at some of her stories. Lots of people, especially men, are carrying some pretty heavy loads around. She often heard the therapeutic share of men with their dying breaths. Peaceful once they had offloaded.

Sharing your stories is fantastic for your health. I would even go so far as to say essential.

I have driven Volvo, Mercedes, BMW and Audi – all good in each their own ways. If you were to ask me right now what is my dream car, it would be a BMW wagon, manual transmission,with a rich deep color … preferably custom – orange is my favorite. A girl can dream right? And…it would be de-badged. That is when you take your hairdryer to the plastic lettering advertising the make and model of the vehicle on the rear and heat the glue so that you can carefully remove the letters. It leaves a nice and clean rear end. Love it! I have enjoyed the treatment on two different vehicles now.Very pleased with the results. Small pleasures…

The Edmonton Police Service kindly took a photo for me…

Will I be so forthright in the man department? Remains to be seen. Let us see how it goes down…

Somehow in my journey back to the single life – 3 years now – the only men to catch my attention have been few and most calling Europe home. Who knew?

I began into this realization after meeting a fine young Norwegian man at a conference in Hawaii, November 2011. There were very few Europeans there but leave it to me to sniff one out. Canada had some representation but the conference attendees were mostly Americans. I try to avoid naming names. If I am unsuccessful, this story can just fit into his legend.

My initial contact with this man caught my attention right away. I was jarred when he plopped into his seat a couple empty chairs down, arriving late to one of the talks. I remarked to myself that this was a huge vibration from what appeared a normal sized guy. There was a speaker who requested we partner up. Hello Mr. Norway. Fine. There was some sharing. I was to listen to him answer questions related to goals. I echoed back an answer to illustrate I was listening. Instantly, I doubted myself. I asked aloud, “Did you say that?” It was my perception that I read his mind. It was not the words I heard him speak that I answered back. I was informed that I received an “A” (yeah for me!) and that he usually gives a hug for that. Certainly. Hug away… That little interaction had me upstairs in my hotel room eating Tarot chips emotionally within minutes – it was lunchtime. I could not even understand when he casually used my first language, “Bon appetit” as we started our lunch break. My brain had short–circuited or something. Confusion starts. Is that a sign of something?? Emotional eating is just not something that I ever do. I took notice of this fact and really wondered what was the big deal. He was just a man. “Who is this guy?”, I heard myself asking. I chose to sit several rows behind him in the next session and not take the original seat that would have put me beside this intriguing gentleman. I somehow decided that my hat was now necessary (to hide?) – I laugh at myself. So I was wondering away. “Maybe he is too square for me?” Not sure. As I am assessing things from my further vantage point, I noticed he casually scanned left with his vision. Slowly his face came around and stopped when it had found me. He nodded to acknowledge me. Many rockets went off – huge energetic reaction. It appeared that he was looking for me. I could run but I could not hide. What the hell was this? Dear Lord…

Now I felt like a teenager again. Kiiiind of cool(?).

Conference continued. Sightings regularly but I was not very comfortable in my own skin it would appear (in hindsight). A shame…

One of the final activities was a catamaran ride and then a luau. Hmmmm… Would be nice to have been on the same boat of the three ready for the group. No, let it flow. I was not on Mr. Interesting’s boat. But I did find excellent conversation with a Relationship Coach/Author, Susan Bradley. One of the books she wrote is called “How To Be Attractive To The Opposite Sex”. She recommended, even if you never read it, just place it out on your coffee table when you bring a date home. He will be turned on by the idea that you have read this book. She was so funny.

Somehow, our conversation finds its way to my recent marital separation. She strongly urged me to give it one last try. I instantly felt no, this did not resonate with me. She challenged me. She whipped out the spiritual special, “We have been put together on this boat for a reason”. I quickly responded, “no, this is not the reason”. The reason became clear later at the Luau. It turns out she is a flirting expert. OK, now we are talking! Here I was with one of the world’s leading experts in flirting. Yes! Sounded perfect to me. She had some advice for another lady and I was all ears. She went so far as to playfully demonstrate the lines for us. It went like this:

Susan approached a nice looking gentleman about her own age: Am I the first woman to flirt with you tonight? (This must be accompanied by touching the lucky gent as you ask. Very important!)

Man: Uuuuh, Yes!

Susan: Is there anyone who would be bothered with my flirting with you?

Man: My wife and 4 kids might not appreciate it.

Funny! As we explained that she was the teacher of this technique, he sincerely complimented her. I liked the ring of it and had someone to try it out on right away.

It took a few minutes before I spotted one of the first men -not the very first but that is another story- to catch my eye in 25 years. That just sounds weird doesn’t it? I was pleasantly surprised to see him face to face sitting at a table talking to ….Susan herself. I sat myself right next to him as I listened to him answering Susan’s questions. She knew I was looking to flirt with someone specific and was dying to know who. I kept her in suspense until I subtly nodded my head to clarify for her once I sat down. In the next breath she determined that he was single, no kids, never married. Saved me having to ask. I likely would not have… despite the fact that I wanted to know. It seemed that she was about to deliver the same advice to him as I had just received so I just demonstrated what she had taught me.

His answer to “Am I the first woman to flirt with you tonight?” fingers resting on his forearm: “And the last”. Loved that answer!! I had to catch a red-eye after the Luau ended so it was very possible that I was not the last. The way I remembered it was that the answer was followed by putting his arm around my shoulder. Nice. OK, I was planted to that chair despite the fact that it had been reserved by another hopeful lass. The short version of the story is that we enjoyed superficial conversation over dinner with the group. We walked through a buffet together. A few nice compliments were given which I basked in. Somehow, I found myself just out of context comfortable with him. I had my hand on either is leg or arm the entire night.

The following is an excerpt from an actual letter that I wrote and sent to him months after the original meeting. I have affectionately titled the letter – over 10 pages long, a euphemism for 19 pages!!- sharing my crazy. It was funny how I chose to write this small part in the narrator viewpoint – as if it was destined to be shared. That thought terrified me at the time but I took notice. It differentiated itself. I just had the urge to change the style.

Conversation was pleasant. I was very comfortable. Over the course of the meal, I observed myself with my hand on his leg or arm most of the time. After the sun had set and we were all enjoying the luau show, I found my head was resting on his shoulder. I could not stop myself from getting really comfortable, even humming ‘mmmmmmmm’ with this proximity. He did not seem to mind. It felt so natural. I mention that “I cannot seem to keep my hands off you”. No answer but body language showed great comfort. Another woman came along (seemingly a fan). She asked if he was himself. “Yes”. Clearly she was taken aback seeing him with me. She asked if we were together. A lot of stammering and reaching for words. I think she landed on “are you with her?” He answered, “I am now“. Definitely consistent with his live in the now philosophy. Can this be taken too far? Here it seemed very appropriate. A very authentic thing to say. I was so impressed with how graciously he handled the situation. I wonder how often this type of thing happens to him? He kindly got up and gave her a hug – the longer than average style he gives. I was slightly embarrassed for myself and her. I could not even look. I was curious now about the Facebook Page as this seemed the origin of her knowledge of him. The carriage was about to turn into a pumpkin as I had a flight home to catch. Everyone was standing to leave. I was feeling so authentic at that moment. I then looked at him for almost the first time that night as we had been sitting beside each other. His eyes were amazing. They shone. They sparkled in a way I had never before experienced. As I looked into them, I was bathed in such a warmth and love. I was overwhelmed. I looked away like a shy schoolgirl. I told him “you are a Beautiful Spirit” and I meant it with all of my heart. I was in completely uncharted territory but not terribly concerned – enjoying the moment so much. I am unsure but I think he said something along the lines that what I saw was just a reflection of myself. He was the mirror of my own Beautiful Spirit. I interpreted this to be a deep compliment – wow. I am pretty sure he said, “It is going to be so Beautiful”. I wish I could go back and ask him what he meant by this. I seemed to almost see a future with him – and children. Angèle, you have a very active imagination or an intuition that might know something. Either way – so good. I mentioned, “you are ahead of me”. I was thinking in regards to waking up, being enlightened. Strange thing to say as I reflect back. He said, “It is not a competition” – a compassionate and kind remark. Instantly, I intuited that he has some psychic abilities and saw a bright future for me. I was left unsure if he was seeing himself in that future or just my own Beautiful Path. Either way, I trusted it will be so good. I trust and respect him in the deepest possible way. I sensed that I would not get his phone number or email because that is old energy style. If we were meant to be together another way would present itself. I gave an authentic hug and that was Bye for now. I was on cloud nine none the less. I could not even speak on the taxi ride back to the airport. I shared the ride with another conference participant – a female photographer from Europe. I quickly gave up on any attempts at social graces. I was just going to experience this moment for myself. It could easily have been interpreted that I was very closed and rude. It was likely very strange for Rudy, the taxi driver. He brought me to the hotel at the beginning of the trip. We had a strong connection so I arranged for him to pick me up at the end for my departure flight. I was very talkative and animated-effusive comes to mind- in the taxi the first time. He gave me what I took to be a lovely compliment. He guessed that I was a presenter and not just a participant – nice. It was dark on the ride to the airport and I was deep within myself – quite peaceful. Not a common occurrence. On the flight home, I was almost vibrating. I was so full of energy. I hardly slept but did not feel the need. I seemed to be just enjoying that peaceful depth of myself. When I landed in Edmonton the next morning, I recall many times taking off my glasses expecting that perhaps I would not need them anymore. I felt that this new energy within me might cure my shortsightedness- fairly weird. The idea came out of nowhere. Each time, it appeared that I did still need optical correction- ha ha. I put it in my mind to try to find a way to remove my need of glasses … and the gray hair.

Excerpt of words shortly after the share my crazy letter. I wanted to capture a few details that I had missed with the prior writing.

<With my inability to keep my hands off of him,I wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand. So I did and he held mine back – felt very natural. I perceived that we both looked down at our two hands holding each otherand he very, very tentatively took the free hand and timidly covered my hand so now both of his hands were around my one hand. This did not last long but I find myself remembering it this way. Was this symbolic? He had blocks to overcome in order to express his true feelings. The memory comforts me. It felt like confirmation that his own heart blocks to personal intimacy exist – that is OK. Love is unconditional. Perhaps there is only one person who can unblock/heal this Beautiful Spirit??? And that would be me…I have the keys to his locks and I have locks that fit his keys.

I really wanted to kiss him. What would that feel like? I asked to take a walk on the beach to which he declined stating that there were other people he needed to talk to. This did jar me back into reality: I was late for my arranged taxi ride to the airport – whoops! It was really time to go. I completely forgot about the details and ended up in the wrong place from where my luggage was … and the other person to share the taxi with. It all worked itself out.>

<At one point in the meal at the luau, there was a piece of coconut square dessert. I took one bite using the only fork. When he could not find another implement, he used the same one I had – with only the shortest hesitation. It struck me as bold and very intimate – the kind of thing couples do without a second thought. It warmed my heart to see him do it. Such a small gesture which I fondly recall. If he does this kind of thing with all women, it is easy to see how he has collected so many fans. When a sexy man uses the fork you just used, whoa baby, watch out. It is love – or is that the old 3D thinking?>

Loved this song when I magically discovered it on my playlist one day during the peak of my Twin Flame dreams. Felt like a synchronicity…

I add May 12, 2014 – I heard another version of this song while shopping a couple of weeks ago. When I went to purchase the Hazzaro Remix – Lissat & Voltaxx vs. Marc Fisher – version, I saw that there were a lot of versions in the itunes store. Guess I am not the only one to notice that song.

When I returned home, my BFF asked, “Is he good looking?” Perplexed, I realized that I had no idea. Paused. I actually said, “I don’t know. He seemed like a God is how I recall”. Looked him up on Facebook and yes, he actually was very attractive. It was irrelevant somehow.

So I imagine these words paint the picture quite well. Angèle had a little crush going on…or something. Within days of returning home, I obtained his email (easily via one of the organizers – from Alberta, went to school at my University here in Edmonton. Small world.) and sent a few lines, including this link. Said it with a song:

I wanted to see him again. His answer ended with, “My plans are open.”

Over the months, he had a way of never saying yes but never saying no either. I am nothing if not enthusiastic so until I would hear a no, I would keep my mind open. After my sharing the crazy letter, his response was short but pertinently included, “I had no special feeling reading this”. OK, that spoke volumes. Out of every experience that could be deemed negative there is a lesson. Things happen for us not to us. I can honestly say that two minutes following reading the disappointing response, I felt great peace and harmony.

I admire Pema Chodron (a Buddhist nun) who has written many books and teaches. I read in one of her books that no emotion, felt fully can last longer than 90 seconds. I really grabbed onto the concept but had not had opportunity to really try it on for size….until this very moment receiving the huge Norwegian rejection.So I noticed the opportunity instantly. I looked at my watch and I told myself to feel it fully. I expected to bawl my eyes out. A few tears did fall but after overwhelming disappointment and sadness washed over me, I looked at my watch….60 seconds had passed. I insisted to myself, “Keep feeling it”. There has got to be more than that!!And that was it. Maybe I shed ten tears and it took 60 seconds to just feel it all. That was approaching two years ago so I can safely say that I do believe that I got it out of my system right then and there – the sadness over that reaction, that is. What a gift!! This felt like freedom. What was I scared of? I probably would be more scared if he felt the way I thought that I did. Maybe that is why it was the way it was. My energetic vibration…

So, did I feel differently about him? No, I cannot say that. But I respected and accepted that he did not feel like pursuing any relations with me at that time. As Don Miguel Ruiz resonately states in his book “The Four Agreements”, I will not assume anything and I will not take it personally. I am worth no more or less without the outward affections of this Beautiful Spirit. And it makes him no less Beautiful a Spirit. I felt unconditional love for him…and still do. Can I feel that for everyone? Not sure that I can…yet. I sense that this is something to strive for. I feel great compassion for almost everyone I meet. I see myself in others more and more. I do not want to take what is not freely given.

So maybe you are wondering what Twin Flame means. Well the concept of Twin Flame came to my attention in the spring of 2011. When I first heard about it, I did not think too much of it. It all started with my hairstylist passing me a book straight out of her drawer, “Value Your Vibration” by Erica Boersma as I sat in her chair getting my hair cut. It was written by another of her clients and was an interesting story of two Twin Flames reuniting. It was all new to my mind. I just shook my head and said, wild. At present, I have decided that the concept of Twin Flame does not really serve me in my life and I have cast it aside for now. But I had thought that the Norwegian man was my Twin Flame. It is a popular notion in some spiritual/metaphysical circles. It speaks of two souls who are half of one soul. If there is a relationship ladder, then the Twin Flame would be your top rung. We have hundreds, perhaps thousands of Soulmates but only one Twin flame.To reunite with your Twin Flame on earth would generate powerful energy that would benefit the world…and the twins themselves. Reuniting physically promises blissful sexual experiences – easily captures the imagination. There seems a possible synergy: two strong wholes become even stronger when together. There is a great purpose to serve humanity that is shared with the two people. Reunion is aided with Divine synchronicities.To be able to reunite with the strong polarity that is always associated requires both individuals to be highly balanced female/male energies within themselves. They would both need to be highly evolved human beings. Most pairs do not come together. There is a tendency for one to be the runner so even if they meet and get together for a short time, long-term partnering seems very difficult. I do not fully understand or need to. This idea really caught on when I had the strong reaction to my Norwegian friend. My intuition wondered if he was my Twin Flame. So when he did not seem to feel the same way, I just kept my mind open thinking that he was my Twin Flame and that it would come together when it was meant to. He was the runner.

So getting back to the 3D experience of being told, “I had no special feeling reading this.” The very next thought that came to my mind was “This is not over”. I looked up and right, the posture that I found myself in. “What do you mean it is not over?” I asked myself. It is sounding like there is nothing started to even be over. So I took it to be either my higher self or angels telling me that it was not over. I could not see how that could possibly be true but…the Twin Flame concept was planted. Just prior to reading the disappointing email, I had heard a song in my truck while driving,

As I heard the chorus “I believe in you” it felt like a choir of angels were singing it in my ear. So I could not help but notice this sense of angelic presence stronger than I have ever felt it in my life just prior to this email. Likely the email was drafted and sent at the time the angels were singing in my ear.

I have come out of the spiritual closet now…

Over the forthcoming months, I many times received messages from angels that I felt I was assigned to send to my friend from Norway. I would ask, “Why can’t you just tell him yourself?” I never got an answer. I did not always follow through but some of the times I did. He was always very nice in his responses. There was one time I intuitively sensed he may have been a bit unsettled. Answering 3 sentences in one line on the email. Very much a man of few words.

Thanks. All is Well. His name here.

Maybe I read too much into it. He could have just been busy and rushed. Maybe I am right in my intuition. At present, I have no definite knowledge that I was. I should add…and I am OK with that. Ha ha

One of my favorite quotes: “Embrace Uncertainty”. I am becoming an expert at this…

You ask, Was there anything else that kept your interest alive after what seemed a done deal? I am glad you asked. Yes, there was. My first psychic reading was May 2011 where the psychic proclaimed that a European man would fall in love with me at first sight. He would want to travel with me and introduce me to his parents. I thought nothing of it at the time but after my big experience with Mr. Norway, I could not help but recall. If he felt feelings, I would need a psychic because he certainly did not choose to express them. Yes, I know. Weak scientific evidence at best.

I had no idea if my intuitive senses were correct or not. But I had chosen to believe in myself unconditionally. I did not need an expected outcome to be happy. I was just myself. I believed that things may not be what they seemed. There may never be a 3D experience with this Beautiful Spirit but there had definitely been an experience for me. Maybe it was just with myself?? One thing I gained from this unusual story is that I recognized how much love I have to give. I must fall in love with myself before I can ever love another. This experience helped me to fall deeper in love with myself: one of the most noble of purposes in this world. We all do it in our own unique way. I connect via music, Beautiful things, art and dance. I can assure you, he is a Beautiful Thing…

For the more curious in the crowd, here is a Truth is Stranger than Fiction tidbit:

Just over one month following the share my crazy letter, I received an email informing me that, “Mr. Norway has commented on a post that you have commented on”. I followed his two Facebook Pages and interacted as I was inspired to. Initially with tons of resistance that reduced as time went on.

I was new to Facebook then and I think this was one of the first times I had received a communication like this. It struck me as a synchronicity. I now know that this is commonplace but at the time, it was not in my world.

The comment was this link related to a post on one of his pages that had under 10 people who had commented. I assumed that all who had made a comment on the post would have received the same notification that I had. I knew that much. I explored each of these people wondering if the message was for one of them. My intuition was unsure but thought it was for me.

It was completely awesome to my heart. I just felt like it was him expressing himself…to me, in a way that was comfortable…for him.

Lyrics:

“So far away.

I think about you every night.

All through the day, you’re all that’s on my mind.

So now I’ve got to try to get back to you some way.

Because deep down inside, there’s so much I want to say.

(Chorus)And I’ll run, run, run, till I get back to you.

Run, run, run. Do what I have to do.

Run, run, run. Till I get back in your arms again.

Out on my own, I found out what you mean to me.

I want you to know, you’re the one I need.

So now, I’ve got to try to get back to you some way.

Because deep down inside, there’s so much I want to say.

(repeat Chorus)

I’ll get across the distance somehow.

I’m gonna make it to you ….soon.

(repeat Chorus)

The video is an amazing Montage of famous movie characters running. It is a Beautiful piece of entertainment… especially for me and my magical thinking.

So strange…and yet, I could not talk myself out of it.

I looked for the post months later and it was hidden. It no longer showed to the public. I could only access it using my email link,which of course I saved. Hmmmmm…. I would think I saw signs but would not know if I interpreted them correctly. Remember that one in a couple of Twin Flames will Run. Coincidence? I have not a clue.

So I just kept communicating when I was moved to … and he always responded in a courteous way. A couple of times it appeared I was one of the first to receive a response during times of backlog. I note this via following his Facebook posts. This is in keeping with my hypothesis. I just accepted that our relating was not as natural as one would expect. Twin Flame polarity…that is the story I am sticking with. Ha ha.

Notice my use of the word hypothesis? I took a scientific interest in my Twin Flame theory..

An earlier draft of this work was titled “Twin Flame: Crash and Burn Style”. I burned in the Twin Flame…

But there are worse things, aren’t there?

I would not give up the experience for anything. I bear no scars despite burning in the flame. I am only a stronger version of myself. Gotta love that!!

I will never fear love. Ok, maybe easier said than done. Sounds like a lovely quote though, doesn’t it? Maybe I am actually terrified of True Love… From what I have seen in books and movies, I do not think I am alone.

I have received great inspiration having met and experienced Mr. Norway’s Facebook posts. I am in awe of his Authenticity and Transparency. I will be Forever Grateful to him. I was introduced to many inspirational and mystical Facebook pages along with teachers which support my continuing exploration into Human Consciousness and Holistic Wellness. No doubt, we would make Famous Friends. I believe any Relationship can be Transformed. That is how Powerful We Are.

I love the power of a good question. During my Twin Flame theory experiences, I asked why is communicating so hard with a man I perceive myself destined to be with? I got a clear answer: so it could be shared with the world more easily. Documentation. Emails. Facebook posts. Now website publishing. The Movie would be way better for it. What. The. Fuck??? Pardon my French.

“Twin Flame: Fact or Fiction?” The title of this story when it was first published. A Myth became the more apt label.

I am a Storyteller. I love stories…

Just when I thought this piece was complete, I watched Episode 11 from Season 3 of Avatar: The Last Airbender. I loved a quote from Uncle Iroh that seems fitting:

Destiny is a funny thing. You never know how things are going to work out, BUT, if you keep an open mind AND an open heart, I promise you will find your OWN destiny someday…

I couldn’t have said it better myself… Yes!!!

Did I mention that I have a passion for Children’s Entertainment?

Addendum May 2014: I have had conversations with two different Twin Flame Coaches way back. I always follow my curiosity. One was a woman from Australia. I had two sessions with her. She said “Oh yes, he is definitely your Twin Flame. I never usually say that.” The second was a Canadian Man. He said, “He is definitely not your Twin Flame. You are destined to meet your Primary Soulmate in this lifetime but it is not him.” He described my experience with Mr. Norway as a Catalystic Heart Reaction: somehow his energetic vibration attuned my own. I wonder if other women, even men, have had this reaction with him. Inquiring minds want to know…

Fun food for thought. In the end, I will Let the Moment Teach Me.

Seems it is Human Nature to want to Know ahead of time and Understand everything.

Embrace Uncertainty… a golden rule for me Now. Infinite Peace, Harmony and Freedom in Not Knowing. Self-evident, I know.

August 8, 2014 Read a concept that I like: perhaps Twin Flame is a passé concept. Better to consider Divine Partnership now. There is not just one person you can have a successful Divine Partnership with, likely there are many available for every last one of us. Strong energetic reactions are exciting but do require you to step up to develop strong heart centered relationship/communication skills to enable you to enjoy the Divine Partnership. The foundation is to develop yourself first.

“It is time for us to grow up, to stop obsessing with twin flames and step into the new divine partnership template which is based on self-love not on having a relationship”.

Quote from the video: The Mission in addition to healing humanity…
Embodying divine love and being/radiating that love.Being examples of harmonious relationships – … actually breaking down the patterns, the paradigms of relationships as we have known them on earth.
The new relationships that are being brought in are very new. At the forefront. Relationships between twins are about complete and total freedom. Independence. Unconditional love and a very high consciousness of love. Christ-like love.

January 24, 2016 I add:
A Myth of Epic Proportions.

A Captivating Tale.

I’ve Got You Under My Skinby Diana Krall.
I came to realize – simply a Beautiful Scar. I will cherish it.
A momento of my heart breaking open…

It has been a familiar melody to my ear for decades it seems. Shines a light on a memory.

Prior to connecting with my marriage partner in second year Medical School, I enjoyed a couple of years of being single. Now that I think back, maybe it was just one. My memory fails me. Wow, did I pack a lot of male interactions into that year (or two). This was the short window between my first lover (2 years together) and my marriage partner. I chose to find a Summer Research job as I felt it would “look good on a resume”. I held a different mindset back then.

One of my study subjects and the metabolic cart in the ICU. Not looking as chipper as I was…

I was always a little insecure about my place within the Medical School. It was my perception that I was one of the last to be let in. But I got in! So that is the main thing, right? I was always looking for the biggest experience I could within the range of choices. So I found a job in the Intensive Care Unit – quite exciting! (In a morbid kind of way). That summer, Edmonton was hit by a tornado.

Sitting in the Hotel Suite waiting to present to the American Academy of CHEST Physicians

Many were killed and the ICU filled up that day with victims. My research was a bit of a yawn – the Thermic Effect of Feeding. Results were negative…but the upside: I presented the findings in Anaheim, California at a conference for the American College of CHEST physicians. Sounds impressive, don’t you think? All in the name of Science…

Second trip to Disneyland! Just as good as when I was a kid.

Another significant detail is that I was ‘conveniently located’ one floor below the Neurological ICU where my dear cousin, of my own age, spent significant time after surviving a ruptured brain aneurysm that very same summer. Pretty heavy… Happy ending!! A Miracle…

So in my role as a Summer Research Student, I met many other students doing the same. Connected to a small group, two from England (guy and gal, not romantically connected) and one from Ireland. Love those Europeans! So being my friendly Canadian self, I offer to drive the threesome to see the mountains and on to Vancouver. Managed to get in a night of camping in the mountains. Fond memories of Mr. England and I “necking” (kissing) as quietly as we could in the tent – not to disturb the others- into the wee hours. He was an amazing kisser. So good, you really had no need to have sex somehow. (And we never did.) That good. Dropped the two English students in Vancouver. Mr. Ireland and I enjoyed the long drive back to Edmonton. Mr. Ireland was the only one of the three who would call Edmonton home for a while. He entered into my life fully- hanging out with my roommate and I doing all that we did. I saw him as a close buddy.

One day he surprises me by writing out the lyrics to “Your Song” and giving them as a show of his affection.

Blindsided! Did not see that one coming… I was not feeling it and was really uncomfortable with him feeling as he professed. The poem was quickly followed by thoughtful gifts and verbal expressions…of love. He certainly knew me well. Today, I would be extremely flattered as it was so authentic. It saddens me to think about my response at the time. I was mad. I did not want to lose my friend and I did not want to have to deal with our feelings not matching. I was mean about it. God help me. In Medical School, I was pretty self-absorbed…and clueless apparently. The saddest part as I look through the retrospectoscope (Doctor speak for looking back in time) is that I did not love myself…and thus could not receive love either. He treated me so well. He was a Beautiful Spirit. And I was incapable of loving him back. Painful once I became aware of this…years later. I was deep into my marriage by this time, reflecting on why I did not have love in my marriage as I desired. Your relationships reflect you. Ouch!! That smarts…

Well I have done the Forgiveness Prayer for Mr. Ireland. The Hawaiian Ho ‘o Pono Pono Prayer: “I am sorry that I was incapable of loving you at the time, please forgive me, I love you, Thank you.” (Say at least 3 times). Closure… “That was easy”.

I would have liked to talk to him but had not maintained contact info. His name was very common so hard to find. No Facebook then. I know that all is healed…within me.

Really loved reading a summary of Karen Salmansohn’s “The Bounce Back Book” shortly after separating from my marriage partner. My marriage partner was the one who so very thoughtfully “signed me up” to Oprah’s subscription list, as the marriage was unraveling, enabling me to see Karen’s wisdom. Came at the perfect time. She offered 10 tips to Bounce Back.

Before the mauled tamer got back into the cage, he made very sure to see what happened from Sheba’s point of view. He recognized how lions tend to think of the trainer as another lion. And so when he bounded into the cage to break up a fight between Sheba and another lion, Sheba merely figured Chipperfield wanted to join in the fight too.

Did Chipperfield sit around blaming Sheba for her inaccurate thinking? No. Instead he took the time to see the biting from Sheba’s perspective, so he’d make sure this bad event would not happen again.

Robert Staub, a psychologist who counsels people who have been through failure, would agree with the Chipperfield philosophy. He says that the main cause of career and relationship failure is “not being able to adopt the viewpoint of others.”

For this reason, many therapists—beginning with Freud—have clients role-play a situation from the offending party’s perspective. The hope is that by understanding why someone might have emotionally taken a bite out of them, the patient can avoid being bitten again!

Tip 7: Happiness is a choice: Not just a matter of genes or good luck.

Tip 8: Get some ZZZZZ’s (sleep).

Tip 9: Think of life as a gigantic Ice Cream Parlor with infinite numbers of flavors to taste.

Tip 10: Use vacations as restorations.

I had posted this on my Beautiful Truth Facebook page on October 10, 2012. I added the comment:

Beautiful Truth To my mind, Tip #6 is very important (maybe often overlooked?). You are always “in there” – in any difficulty, Beautiful experience, challenge. If you cannot figure out how you connected to this event, likely you will see more of that type of event come your way (or feel helpless, powerless). And in the case of Beautiful experiences that is awesome but not all experiences are Beautiful…

“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.”

I always believed that it did take a Village to raise a child but once I actually entered into motherhood, I am believing it less and less and in a different way. As smart and educated as I have always felt myself to be, I was not prepared for the oncoming “advice” that is handed out the millisecond one becomes a mother… At almost any and all opportunities. I now just nod and note what the advice tells me about the advisor. We all look through our own ‘unique’ lenses of our B.S. (Belief Systems). It took me a few years to realize that the “experts” who write the books are also just human beings…full of B.S. (belief systems).

Humongous Tree by the Barenaked Ladies on their Epic album “Snacktime”. The best children’s album I have ever heard. Children are like seeds. I am a humongous fan of the Barenaked Ladies. I often say “I want to be a Barenaked Lady”. A girl can dream…

I have two noteworthy examples of discovering the failings of the experts: How To Solve Your Child’s Sleep Problems by Richard Ferber, MD, and 1, 2, 3, Magic: Effective Discipline for Children by Thomas W. Phalen, PhD. Elise being my oldest was the “guinea pig”. I somehow felt I needed to be “booksmart” in order to raise a child. In the end, my best advice came from my Mémé (grandma), “Each child will teach you how to raise them”. She was Oh. So. Right. But being Angèle, I needed to experientially learn for myself. I did not fully recognize the wonderful wisdom of Mémé – at first. Elise was a dream child. We connected very strongly and instantly. I always felt I knew what she wanted…telepathically. It came in very handy. It gave me great confidence as a mother. (I did turn away from that connection as I read all the books by the experts). Her sleep was like a dream. This enhanced the motherhood experience. I actually slept. I recall her sleeping through the night at 7 weeks of age. It was the same day that I put her in her crib for the first time. (Yes, I read that having your baby sleep with you was very good for the baby. It was not bad but she slept through the night the first night she had her own crib.) I had heard of the “Ferber Method”. Many weeks went by where I nursed her to sleep and then gently set her into her crib….Ahhhhh, slept like a baby. Until one day, she woke and was pretty upset at being left in the crib. It was the very day I decided, I will Ferberize her. Ferberize is to let the baby figure out how to soothe themselves and get to sleep – aka cry it out. It broke my heart but took only one night. I am not sure I could have handled a second night like the first – over an hour of crying. (And I know, this is nothing). I am a wimp when it comes right down to it. Or maybe I was just ‘connected’ to my baby. All said, the mother must look after herself first in order to best care for her baby. So each mother has to determine how to do this. Easier said than done…

Then there were the timeouts when she was four. I took what felt to be common advice. I reinforced it from Phalen’s book, 1, 2, 3 Magic. I will spare the details but after using it a fair amount, I determined that time-outs did not work with Elise. I abandoned them. They angered her and it just did not feel right. Brought me back to my own time-outs as a child where I developed the habit of laying on my bed, and then kicking the wall repeatedly as hard as I could until my anger settled. Eventually, I kicked a large hole in the drywall…which my parents delayed repairing as a clear signal that my actions were not appreciated. They won that one more than they originally knew because I was “terrified” of that hole – that some alien or monster would pop out of it. It was right beside my bed…..yikes!! Lesson learned, anger is “best avoided”.

At that point in my mothering career, I decided to start taking my Mémé‘s advice. I felt my daughter and I could communicate very well together. She astounded me with her grasp of complex/difficult issues and her maturity. I feel she is an “old soul”. Once I did this, our relationship strengthened. I had all the evidence I needed now. No “expert” would talk me out of my own wisdom as I had allowed in the first years of my dear little guinea pig’s life (Élise). The two sons that followed benefited from my connection to my own wisdom. (Yes, I see how self-evident this all is.) I am a slow learner. Better late than never.

Fast forward to 2013.

Élise, 16 years old, continues to thrive – in so many ways. I am in awe and so pleasantly surprised. (Not biased at all..haha). People often talk about the “terrible twos” and then a girl as a teenager as difficult times. For me, I do not agree. It seems that these common beliefs are associated with times when a child may have ideas that differ from the parents (culturally ingrained B.S.). I have a guilty pleasure – not that guilty- in enjoying the occasional psychic reading. Just prior to starting this story, I met this particular psychic man for the first time (my 3rd Psychic at the Russian Tea Room here in Edmonton). So he read Tarot cards, my palm and 3 Destiny Cards. Fun to have these readings done. This time, he surprised me by starting first with my kids. Elise being the very first. Here I am ‘reprimanded’ by the psychic in how I am raising Elise. He tells me I need to “reign her in”. Hmmmmm….I noticed my own reaction instantly resists this. There is no harm in taking a look at it. Elise has a busy lifestyle…of her own choosing. I have often felt it to be a bit busy but as we discuss it, she is inspired by all of her activities. She has achieved a Brown Belt in karate (which is phenomenal). She volunteers extra time to the program without hesitation. That is how a good dojo runs. The higher belts help in the training of the lower belts. It is something she enjoys. Her Sensei is one of the most inspiring young women I have ever met. So I cannot fault Elise in following in her footsteps. Sensei is a Nurse Practitioner and a former Squash Champion, Tennis Champion and just finished a couple of years on the National Karate Team. A Superstar…and a wonderful person. I have a lot of hobbies I have accumulated over the years. I passed on the one of “Cake Decorating” to Elise. We have all the tools and gadgets. Some amazing cakes have been created in my kitchen. This organically led her into a special program of Culinary Arts in a nearby High School. Which resulted in a lovely summer job as a Chef Apprentice. This was part of her schooling and brought her great joy every day.

She also enjoyed playing Badminton/ Swimming on the school teams. To top it off, she even started dating: worrisome to many parents, but not me. Been there. Done that. Hard to control authenticity. Why would you want to? Seeing who my kids really are is the very best part of parenting. I love to ask for their viewpoints. I honestly believe that I could not be who I am now without their wisdom. Their views shook me loose from some of the B.S. (Belief Systems) I had taken on. They even have the lingo. I hear them ask, “Mama, is that not just a Belief System?” I have enabled some very Beautiful Souls in this world…

As I review the advice the psychic gave, I learned that my friend feels the same way. Hmmmm…. I realize that I have heard many “warnings” from friends and family. Each of them is afraid (maybe concerned is a better word) that she will get pregnant. As I tease through the various discussions, they always end up here. Teenager… leads to sexual urges… which are explored and then ….result in intercourse…. which leads to the risk of pregnancy. I am always pretty leary when fear is at the forefront of decisions. And what exactly am I to do anyway? I love to ask my critical commentators what they advise. Most people just encourage me not to “make it easy” for her to have time alone with her boyfriend. Does not sound like a solution exactly. Never go out? Sexuality does not necessarily mean intercourse…not that there is anything wrong with that.

I am brought back to a time before I had any kids. I was a very keen Family Doctor with a passion for the underprivileged. One of my patients was the Principal of a School located on an Aboriginal Reserve. She described their issues relating to teenage pregnancy and sexuality. She asked if I would do a talk for the Grade 8 group. (Now my own son, Jacques, is in Grade 8). Seems surreal to me as I think back to it. I welcomed the chance to see if I could help in any way. So I put together a little talk about sexuality. Birth Control was a part of it. The teacher had foreseen that the kids would never open up in the group setting so they were offered one on one time with me, in addition to writing questions on little slips of paper that would be anonymously answered to the group. The questions actually embarrassed me. They taught me more than I taught them, let me assure you. They were mostly asking what is this and what is that sexual behaviors. Being the “expert” of course I did not know the answers to most of the questions. And if I did, I was reluctant to answer them. Ha ha. I was left with homework. What were those things? I did not talk as dirty then as I do now apparently. I learned a very valuable lesson through this whole experience. I ‘judged’ their behavior as ‘problematic’ but actually it was not to them. Following this humbling experience, tail between my legs, I entered into discussion about the community. I listened. Ideally this should have occurred before I came in to “teach” them what I thought they needed to know. The teachers and I felt they had a problem but in their culture, having a baby was the highest achievement they could expect. It made perfect sense to me why the girls would want to get pregnant. Their mothers were extremely proud when they were grandmothers before the age of 40. Children are blessings…and they knew it. The teenaged births were celebrated by the family. I was embarrassed for myself as I realized my own B.S. (Belief System) made no sense to them. This feeling also describes why the Medical System itself often fails. The Patients and the Doctors do not share the same B.S. There is remote hope in holistically beneficial outcomes when the Patients and Doctors do not share the same “raison d’etre”. Motivations and expectations are not a match. I guess that is part of what I meant when I felt I was “spitting into the wind” with my Medical work. Unless the two groups are willing to get onto the same page, there will only be frustration on both sides.

As I percolated with my experience trying desperately to be an expert on the Aboriginal Reserve, I also wondered how to generally impact a teenage population. I came up with the concept that I declared I would teach to my own kids (and I have to Elise). There is no form of contraception that is 100% effective, so if you are going to have intercourse, consider if your partner is someone you would want to raise a child with. Also, use two forms of contraception. (Sounds a little fear mongering doesn’t it? I was a Doctor. What more can you expect of me?) With my new spirituality, I relax that a little. Not that it does not serve a message. I think about the idea that the more we fear something, the more likely we attract it into our reality. I don’t know. So I cannot lead myself to “fear” Elise becoming a mom. She has declared that she has no intentions of ever becoming a mom. I will not hold her to that but that has been a consistent message from her. I strongly believe that sensuality and sexuality are normal. How we handle our natural urges is a choice. A teenager in touch with themselves will know when they are ready for what. I feel I did. So how do I handle my daughter’s freedom? I find myself trusting in her. (Gasp) I recall my own experiences at a similar age. Freedom to explore was very much appreciated. I feel my daughter is educated and I trust her to make the choices that serve her in her life. My relaxed attitude does not sit comfortably with many. I guess that is their problem… I am not afraid of normal. I love kids!! Ha ha.

I was forever changed by my experience with the Aboriginal Community. Seeing kids through their eyes was a Beautiful experience. I am Grateful for the expansion of my perception.

The book I wish I got my hands on way back then is “The Idle Parent: Why Less Means More When Raising Kids” by Tom Hodgkinson. It was published in May 2010 so was not available in my day. I have not read it but I like the sound of it. Somewhere along the way, I chose to change from a “Fast Parent” to an “Idle Parent”. It feels great. My second psychic reader compared my youngest child, Jean-Luc, to a “self watering plant”. Absolutely true! Found this article, “Slow, Free-Range, Idle Parents Can Increase IQ and Happiness”.

I often sang this song, just the chorus, to my former husband: just one of my many endearing traits. A lot could be said with this little snippet. Sometimes it would continue on to him saying, “We should just hire some more help”. Answered by my, “You cannot hire someone to live your life for you.” I always thought he was a tad of a workaholic. Ironic that he worked with his Dad… and as a result often had no time for his Dad. As he would remind me, my buddy was far from the only one “living the life”…

Remember that fun old mom saying: If your friends jumped off a cliff, are you going to go and jump off a cliff too?

P.S. – Just as I complete the first draft of this story, my 13 year old asks me to come and see “something”. I do not like the sound of that. Apparently, my 8 year old has thrown a ‘javelin’ (some implement pretending to be a javelin) at him. He sports a laceration near his eye (gasp) that I would pop a stitch into if it were at hand. Ironic timing.Bleeding has stopped. Amazing. I have steri-strips for just this occasion. Done…

Warning: This is not intended to be Medical Advice. I write stories….please do not forget. But it would take a whole lot of blood to drag myself or family member to the Emergency Department. The human body has phenomenal healing capacity…

Back to Grade 8 Outdoor Education weekend trip to get me to one of the most humbling moments of my life. My picture speaks volumes. Seems so funny to me now. I have come a long way. No beauty queen here: bad perm, braces and an eye the size of a baseball… A Kodak moment.
Ok, I am caught red-handed exaggerating this time. It had been years since I looked at this picture. Maybe my eye was just a little swollen…

At my Junior High School (slated for $10 million renovations I read on my first boyfriend’s Facebook post the other day. He is a Member of the Legislative Assembly remember?) Grade 8’s were treated to an overnight trip at a nearby site outside the city. There was a lodge with bunk houses, kitchen, common dining room and activities like archery and horseback riding. Being the blessed girl that I was, when I asked for horseback riding lessons at the age of 5, my parents happily complied. We lived in Calgary at the time. A suitable stable was found: heaven for me. Riding horses became a family activity. One dramatic memory I had from that era proved how well I listened to the rules when I was inspired to do so. I was 6 years old (?). We were instructed to lead our horses to their stalls holding their reins, walking ahead of them. I felt very empowered handling horses. Of my group, I was the only one who was taking charge of her horse….which landed me surrounded by untended horses. I was trapped in a small space, crowded in a canyon of horses. I ended up getting kicked (little ankle kicks, not sure how to describe it) many times but nothing a little “tincture of time” could not heal. Interesting metaphor to my mind…

So I was pretty excited about riding again at this Outdoor Ed. Trip with my longstanding love for horses.

The wrangler picked out a horse for me. I noticed it had a huge gash on its forequarter. I pointed it out. I softly requested another horse. Request denied. I was not very assertive so thought twice before asking again. A little more emphatic, “please give me another horse this one is hurt”. Still no. I debated whether I should refuse to ride the horse. My enthusiasm for riding overruled my sense that I should not have ridden that horse. Was that intuition? Off the group went. But it was not truly riding horses. We sat on horses that were going for a walk – follow the leader. The lead horse made the trail that all the others followed. Mostly, the rider just had to hang on. They were not controlling the experience. A tad distasteful but I was happy hanging with horses nonetheless. The strangest thing happened next. There was a dead tree. A horse a couple ahead rubbed gently against it. It moved slightly. The next horse rubbed, it started to fall. It felt surreal as the scene moved in slow motion. Reining in my horse had no effect. It had made another decision…to run quickly under the healthy sized falling log before the log landed on the ground. It was not being controlled by the rider, it was following the leader. Horse was successful. Rider: not so much. I caught the tree in the eye leaving a gash just under the eyebrow. Cool experience. I felt absolutely no pain. Slow motion persisted. I felt like I was falling into the largest pile of feathers. I sensed the pile was 5 feet high. So when I landed on the ground, I was very peaceful.

Not sure if I was unconscious right away but I was extremely sleepy. I could not keep my eyes open. It was determined that I would be brought back to the main lodge and then driven to the nearest emergency department. I could hardly walk for the sleepiness. One of the adult chaperones lost their patience with me. Told me that the other eye was fine just open my eye. It was challenging to stay awake, even while walking. It is easy to forgive the layperson, she did not know any better. The doctor, on the other hand, likely should have known better.

So off to see the rural Doctor in Emergency. He examined me physically. My biggest memory was of him prying my eye open and testing my vision. Aaaah, big relief. “She can see” – as long as you pry open the swelling. I was discharged promptly. The concussion and head injury were undiagnosed – oh my!! Back to the lodge we went. My memory from this time was very sketchy. I was in and out of consciousness for the remainder of the weekend trip. I laid unconscious in my bunk. It was the coolest sensation. Lights on. Lights off. I fondly remember my first boyfriend (no longer a couple by that time) being part of a group coming into my room. They checked in on me repeatedly, loud and boisterous. Lights on. They would ask how I was doing. Heard me answer. Then they would leave. Lights off again. Intuitively, they were following the instructions for concussion. Those smart kids! Leave them to their own devices and look what they did. You would almost think they went to Medical School. They were not worried: could see that I was fine. They were just following their instincts. Usually, the Doctor would recommend waking the patient up to ensure they are rouseable every couple of hours or so. That was the care I received from those playful teenagers. If a slow bleed was accumulating in the brain, it might have required lifesaving surgery. No worries, I was being looked after. I seemed to come around just in time for the bus ride back to St. Albert.

My mom was a law student at this time. The word litigation was cast about. No long term damage was apparent. (Ha ha! Who knows?) She was pretty upset that she was not notified of the accident. Truly I would have been better off at home. Happy ending none the less.

Maybe that explains a little of how I came to be who I am. A little head injury: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Isn’t that what they say?

December 1, 2014 I insert: Attended my 30 year High School Reunion recently. A Beautiful Soul was recounting the memory of kissing me on this Outdoor Ed. trip 34 years ago now. I did not remember it at all. I think I had a good excuse. So funny, he did not recall the head injury. Really wonder if it was a case of mistaken identity. We are all the authors in our own stories, I guess. End insert.

Moral of the Story: Follow the Leader at your own risk. This can leave you powerless when field conditions require individual action. Wait a minute. There was that time when I was the only one in control of my horse and I still got hurt. But I was the only one following instructions of the leader. Hmmmm…. Maybe not black and white. What do you know about that?

I used to say that my lesson from this experience was that horses are big, strong and stupid. But my perspective has changed with time. For years, I avoided riding horses. Summer of 2012, I was back in the saddle again in Otavalo, Ecuador. A short spell in a canter and I was hooked again. Nowhere to go but up from here!

I just completed “The Cheese Stands Alone”, a story from my 12 year old days. This story’s title popped into my head following my very first Astrology session back in September 2013. In that session, it was relayed to me that in the year 1966, my birth year, many revolutionaries/visionaries were born. I instantly thought of “my first boyfriend”. His birthday is the day before mine. He recently held a big, fancy title as the Deputy Minister of a Provincial Government Department. Inspiration hits: I sent a Facebook message “requesting his audience” with a short explanation if he would care to chat. I enjoyed a coffee catch up visit shortly thereafter in his constituency office. So weird… It is very hard to see him as a Politician. He just does not seem to be the type. I am not the first to mention this to him. He is such a “regular guy”. I mean that in the biggest way: a huge compliment. I left our coffee talk thinking to myself, he is like a brother. He recounted a story of our shared experience that I had never heard before. I nearly single-handedly ended his career as a trombone player back in the day. (Gasp!!) I am. So. Sorry. He forgave me. Whew… Short version: Two Grade 7 Bands. He played trombone solo in one. I played trombone with a comrade in the other. Christmas concert. The 3 trombone players unite! Two trombones play “in unison”. One trombone player has his own ideas- his perception. I did not notice or I completely forgot. We can laugh about it now.

OK, I do not think that comes from the Official Sesame Street Channel. Whoops!

When you are 12, the term boyfriend is a bit of a big label for the role. In my day, one or the other in a couple would ask, “Will you go out with me?”. I cannot say that I remember “who asked” in this incident. If I were to guess, I would guess me. Whoever did, we probably had a friend do a reconnaisance mission to see how well received the question would be first. The crush began long before the big ask. Well, when the yes came, both wondered, “now what?” But we were bigger versions of our former selves. Validation was enjoyed. Our ‘relationship’ highlights were going tobogganing with a large group of kids but ‘as a couple’. There was “a kiss” too… That was hard to forget. He was (and is) very funny: one of his endearing qualities. I always thought he could make a living at comedy if he were to choose. I was laughing all day around him. Well after our first kiss, he pretended that he got his lip caught on my “braces”. I was both laughing and mortified. Another example of my humble beginnings. He was instantly forgiven. Gotta luv ‘im. He was/is such a cutie.

My ‘first boyfriend’ was handsome, athletic, nice, funny, smart. Everything that I was attracted to then and still am. I was so surprised when I first told the other girls about my crush. They were shocked. Was I not concerned that he wore glasses? No. What about his “mixed race” ancestry? What of it? All the more interesting. He had good energy. Still does. I run into him regularly enough and it is always a pleasure. It is delightful what great mutual respect we have always shared. The special little bond between us is pleasing. It was his own proclamation to my brother whenever they would meet (as adults) that I was his “first girlfriend” that reminded me that, yes, I guess he was my “first boyfriend”. A cute exaggeration. I wear my title proudly. I was so happy for him when he found small scale fame in University. It seemed that now everyone saw what I noticed back when we were 12. I have always said I can see the god in people. Well he played Volleyball in University (and was a serious hotty – long curly, dark hair, tall and muscular) and I am not sure if it was “Sun God” or some similar nickname that he was branded with. Maybe that is just what I called him. All the girls were noticing him then, probably still. I recognized his brilliance long before. I pride myself in that.

Years ago, I began following politics. First as a Doctor in the Medical System with my patients in mind. Then as an Education Advocate once my oldest child started school. Next I became interested in Electoral Reform. My experience with the Education and Medical systems left me believing our current political system had no hope in improving anything with the winner takes all (First Past the Post) style of election. After my interest in Electoral Reform fizzled, I joined a newly formed Political Party. I donated money and walked side by side campaigning with the candidate. At this time, I was calling myself a “political intuitive”- just to myself. I seemed to know things before they happened. I received clear pictures of the political candidates. I had strong urges as to what would be best for the Province. I did not have a lot of confidence in this but it was a hobby of sorts. So the fact that “my first boyfriend” is high up in power with the Governing party holds some intrigue for sure. (I should note that my interest in Politics ended 2 years ago. Dropped like a hot potato. New passion: transform the individual, starting with myself, to the highest form of Self.As more people achieve this, the systems take care of themselves.)

One of my Medical School Classmates held a Deputy Minister position years ago, also. He was kicked out of the governing party for standing up against the Government in a medical issue. Many applauded him – including myself. Instead of joining my party of choice, he chose another opposition party. He went on, and continues, to lead that party. I spent a couple of hours with him over Bubble Tea right around that time. My intuition saw him as having his heart in the right place but was all in his head with his politics. Pity, the heart packs a way more powerful punch. I asked him why he did not choose “my party”? He said he asked his constituents. They said no. A good answer for a Politician… It was not the answer I wanted to hear. But who am I? I am the 1%. I love this joke. Others in my party did not seem to like it quite so much… To my surprise. (My party received only 1% of the popular vote in its first election.)

Be a lover of what is and the war is over. Byron Katie
One of my all time favorite quotes…

I often say, “I have friends in high places”. I love the double entendre. It can mean literally guys like these two gentleman now in politics OR the higher power/God. Cool when both perspectives are true. I can only speak for myself…

Most of my stories are within my adult life. This one goes way back…to 12 years old. I was in Grade 7. This story paradoxically had a huge impact and yet, at the same time, had little impact. Paradox is a good sign in my books. I took in the experience. Learned from it. And moved right along. I did not skip a step. I did not even tell my parents about it. Somewhere in the last decade, something triggered the memory. I remember it as a story of resilience. How did a 12 year old girl have so much resilience? Who taught me that? Heaven only knows. (Love that!)

This tale offers an alternate view of the more common teenaged victim story. Victimhood is a state of mind. If you don’t have it, you just are not a victim. Suffering is optional. It is a choice – be it conscious or subconscious. Certainly, my 12 year old self taught me well. I love this story.

My brother was 3 years younger and attended the neighborhood Elementary School. My school was brand new serving Grades 5-9. Lice checks hit the Elementary Schools and my brother was picked out. He had lice. He was sent home from school and could not return until he received treatment- special shampoo and laundering clothes/linens touched within 2 days. Somehow we were in the practice of sharing bath towels, so seemed prudent for me to take treatment too. Recently I have received almost weekly notices that someone in my youngest son’s class has been found with lice. Please check your child for nits or lice …. Serves to prompt my memory of my own “lice story”. Back to the 1970’s. Once we educated ourselves as to what lice was…no big deal. Wash the appropriate items. Good to go.

Well the next day at school, the lice incident was far from my mind. Been there. Done that. I appeared to be receiving some kind of silent treatment from all of the girls. Nobody was talking to me. I am/was pretty lighthearted (and intuitive). It did not seem to be a playful kind of thing. I truly did not exist to the group any longer. I had been shunned. Similar to the Cheese Touch in the Diary of A Wimpy Kid. After checking with many people receiving no response, I settled into the silent treatment. I was slightly annoyed but gave up trying to determine what was going on. Have always connected well with the boys so just enjoyed interacting with them. By about day 3, a timid little Soul approached me and told me what had happened. My brother’s best friend at school had a sister in my grade. Well, the story goes, her mother upon hearing of my brother’s case of lice instructed her daughter not to associate with me. The sister promptly reported to school and passed on her mom’s advice to all the other girls. Amazing how news can travel…

I clearly remember my eyes opened wide at hearing this news. I am not sure if I am building myself up here but I felt a strong compassion for the mother for being so ignorant and passing it on to her daughter. I perceived that I was more mature and educated than she was. (My bad, I was judging. Oh yes.) I was deeply disappointed in my classmates for not choosing a different choice. There was a sense of stability recognizing that truly, we each stand alone. It was a powerful experience. I believe I am honest when I say that I did not suffer by this experience. It felt clear that this was more about them than me. Fine. Belonging to the group just did not seem that important when looked at through this lens. They appeared ignorant and uncaring. How sad for them. I recognized my own self-worth independent of what my group thought. I valued my own judgment over theirs. Kind of a lifelong treasure to my mind. To give them credit – there was no Google in those days. If one had a query, it was off to the library. It was not in our nature to go rushing to the library to fill in all the missing pieces to our knowledge. We are usually unaware of what knowledge we lack. Oh, the irony.

Within minutes, I recall feeling secure in who I was and deeply disappointed in my classmates. It made me feel that their friendship was not very genuine if it could be so easily shaken. (Nobody even came to ask me about it- If it was even true!) My own company was the most reliable. Fierce independence, here I come. I moved even more fully into the lone wolf mentality. I carried on at school for weeks “without girl friends”. If news traveled to the boys, it did not show. I continued to enjoy their friendship. Nothing more playful than a teenaged boy. I have always liked the boys. I was not suffering, fear not.

Over time, I was taken in by two kind girls who hung with me through to the end of Grade 7. I appreciated their kindness and generosity. We all recognized we were not the most authentic match. It was nice to try. In Grade 8, I found a kindred wild spirit who became my best friend. We found trouble together over the next couple of years. The fun kind mostly. One of our funniest was each sneaking out of our homes late at night after dark and meeting each other in the school field. We knew one of the neighborhood families with a pool was on vacation. Hey, you have got to try skinny dipping at least once. Right? When I sneaked out of the house, it was easiest to use my brother’s window and climb down the patio structure. Years later, he (parents also) was shocked that I did this as he did not remember. I had to step right onto the head of his bed to make my exit. I had thought he was truly awakened but I guess he is a deep sleeper.

Oh, and then there was driving without driver’s licenses at lunch: being spotted by teachers. When we had difficulty parking the manual transmission to return my friend’s parent’s truck, we went to one of the teachers for help. …and he did repark it for us. It was backed into the carport which then exceeded our abilities. And the teacher did not tell our parents. Those were the days. All ends well… I developed a taste for breaking the rules.

Which reminds me of the case of coming into possession of a key to the school. Seems it was a Universal key. It opened any and all doors. My lips were sealed. It was not premeditated but opportunity was recognized and could not be ignored. If you have ever seen the show Malcolm In The Middle (on Netflix now), I see myself in that Malcolm kid. Love the Malcolm in the Middle Theme Song by They Might Be Giants. (An adolescent anthem – lyrics: Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know. Can you repeat the question? You’re not the boss of me now). We were top students so academic mischief was of little use to us. Not that we did not explore that. Seeing a test ahead of time when you normally achieve near 100% on your own, makes little sense. We were very inspired, however, to get into the gym after hours. All the utility balls you could ever want. A large, well-maintained gym at your disposal. Lovely. The fact that it was equipped with a trampoline was just a great big bonus!

Junior High in a nutshell.

Reminds me of how thankful I am for my three kids. I have come to respect children as teachers. I cannot count the times I have been surprised by how wise mine are. As long as there is not an adult corrupting them… I say this lightly. Love hyperbole/exaggeration. Food for thought.

Wrote late 2013

P.S. – Farmer in the Dell – a 2:40 minute reminder of the old social game/song. In the end, “The Cheese Stands Alone”.